


Playing To Lose

by aPseudonym



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Its 4 am and i wrote this instead of working on my other fic, Jealous Dean, M/M, basic angst with some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 14:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10336667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aPseudonym/pseuds/aPseudonym
Summary: In the bed besides his, Dean laughs softly, kicking off his shoes and pulling up the blanket, and Cas turns and presses his face to the pillow.Fine,he thinks,I’m not going to play this game anymore.





	

It happens a lot. 

More than Cas would like to admit.

It always, _always,_ starts about halfway through a case, when Dean is getting itchy and pent up, he’ll leave Sam and Cas to find the nearest bar to find the closest thing to fuck. Tonight is no different, Dean finally stumbling into the motel room hours later, smelling of beer and sex, with a dainty perfume lingering around him, and Cas’s heart breaks a little, and he wishes he’d had some foresight before choosing Jimmy Novak, that maybe if he’d found a different vessel before diving into hell after dean, if he’d chose one with curves and smiles instead of Jimmy Novak, Dean would accept him. Love him. _Really though,_ he thinks, _it wouldn’t matter._ Wouldn’t have mattered, no matter how big his tits were or how long his legs would’ve been. _He’ll never love you,_ a voice whispers savagely in his head, and Cas growls in the dark, barely audible. 

In the bed besides his, Dean laughs softly, kicking off his shoes and pulling up the blanket, and Cas turns and presses his face to the pillow. _Fine,_ he thinks, _I’m not going to play this game anymore._

~~~~

Cas barely sleeps, quietly getting out bed the minute he deems it morning. He silently apologizes to Jimmy for last night-- “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,” he whispers, leaning forward to grab his hoodie that is hanging off a chair, and he shrugs it on, sliding open the back door to the small balcony outside, taking the laptop with him. The hoodie is the same one that he’d worn when he’d been homeless, and Cas wears it like a safety blanket. Four a.m is a little early to be working cases, but Cas combs through their suspect’s police records anyway, adding things to his mental _that’s suspicious list._

He works and works, until finally Sam gets up and notices him, gently taking the laptop away from his ice cold fingers. 

“Wanted a head start on the case,” Cas says, and Sam shrugs, his back popping when he stretches. 

“Just don’t wear yourself out, man.” 

Cas offers a rare smile, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie. “Don’t worry.”

He stays away from the brothers that day, gives them space to do whatever they do when it seems like they don’t want him around, and ends up in a skeevy bar at nine at night, the day wasted on questioning his useless suspects and chasing leads that lead to nowhere, and leaves his phone in the car before going in. The Winchesters haven’t called him, either of them, so Cas figures that maybe they’d forgotten about him, forgotten that he couldn’t exactly fly off anywhere. It doesn’t matter. Cas sips at his drink, considers just staying here all night, when someone slides into the stool next to him and shifts close, smiles at him and offers to buy him another drink. The guy is shorter than Dean, but still taller than Cas, with scruffy blonde hair that is close enough to Dean that Cas takes notice. The eyes aren’t green, they’re a deep brown, but they guy looks similar enough to Dean that Cas smiles back, accepts the offer and the hand laid meaningfully on his thigh. 

Cas feels tipsy and warm and wants Dean, wants to feel him pressed up against him, so he lets himself be lead outside, crowded up against the side of his car in the dark with a thigh between his legs, desperately kissing Dean – _Lucas,_ apparently,– back and hoping one of them has enough blood left in their heads to drive, when a car pulls into the space next to them with a familiar rumble, the headlights flashing up at them and Cas jumps back, pulls away from De– Lucas’ mouth and hips and hopes to god it isn’t Dean driving that impala. 

The lights turn off as suddenly as they came on, and then the door is swinging shut and Dean’s gruff disbelieving voice calls out “Cas, what the _fuck?_ ” 

Somewhere deep inside him, under the instant mortification and resentment that bubbles to the surface, Cas swears he can hear Jimmy laughing, and he distantly wishes the ground would crack open and swallow him up. He shifts away from Lucas, who seems to get that he isn’t wanted, starting to edge back to the bar and away from the drama unfolding, leaving Cas alone with an angry hunter and hard on that makes Castiel want to fall to his knees and thank God for the sudden darkness surrounding them. He doesn’t know what to say, what there even is to say, so Cas is quiet, letting Dean cover the space between them until they’re barely a foot apart. 

Dean isn’t quiet when he speaks, and the tone of his voice makes Cas want to either bury his face in his hands or run away. “Cas, what the hell? I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you, and you’re what– fuck– hooking up with some random dude?” 

“You– you didn’t call, and I thought–” 

“What, Cas, you thought that you’d get drunk on tequila and fuck this guy in the parking lot? Jesus Christ, Cas, don’t you have a brain?”

The words sting, and Cas feels his hands clench into fists and his sides, and he takes a breath before his alcohol muddled mind decides to take a swing at Dean. “Oh, like you’re so holy. You’ll take home anything with tits and legs, Dean, you fucking _hypocrite._ ” He’s drunk, Cas knows, a little proud of himself for not hiccuping out the _H_ in hypocrite, but Dean’s face is priceless, shocked at the swears and slurs, and he takes the smallest step back. 

“Cas,” he says softly, “Cas, you’re drunk. C’mon, I’ll take you home.” 

No, no, no, no _no no no no_. He can’t– there’s pity coloring Dean’s voice now, and Cas almost misses the anger, and he slumps against his car door, burying his face in his hands. 

He just wants it all to disappear for a moment. 

Just for a minute. 

Dean reaches out, gently takes him by the arm. “Hey, hey, Cas, it’s okay.” His hands slide up and they’re cradling his wrists, pulling Cas’ hands off his face. “Listen– I’m sorry, alright? Here, c’mon, let’s get you home.”

Cas wonders vaguely if Dean knows he doesn’t have a home, that it had been lost long ago, but he can’t make his mouth form the words, can’t say anything, really, so he reaches up, tugs Dean down by the hair and kisses him like his life depends on it. Dean makes a surprised noise into his mouth, but he doesn’t pull away, so Cas shuffles closer and tips his head back and slides his tongue across Dean’s bottom lip, and _god_ , this was so much better than fucking Lucas, because he doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to do anything but kiss Dean until the world drops out from beneath them. 

It sparks across Cas’ mouth, and it’s hot and wet and much too soon when Dean pulls away, staring at Cas like he’s an alien he’d never noticed until now, and all of Cas’ doubts start to fall back into place, the alcohol wearing off slightly, and he’s sure that despite the darkness Dean can see his face flushing red. “Dean… I– I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have– please, I’m sorr–” He’s interrupted by Dean, pulling him in by his tie and tilting his face back up to his, slotting his mouth back over Cas’ and pressing him against the car. “Don’t– don’t be sorry,” Dean huffs between kisses, “Fuck, Cas, don’t you _ever_ be sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> bro i dont even know


End file.
